


Scraping.

by doctorkaitlyn



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Episode: s02e01 What Lies Ahead, M/M, Pre-Slash, Season/Series 02, Slight Canon Divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:52:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a sound that haunted Glenn's dreams.  </p><p>Originally posted on ff.net in 2011, based on the first season two trailer that was released.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scraping.

**Author's Note:**

> so this was both the first Walking Dead story & the first Daryl/Glenn story I ever wrote and somehow, I never realized that I hadn't transferred it over to here until today. It was based off of [this](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1OZ0mu8Ey6A) video and I didn't realize that it was Shane under the car with Glenn until the episode actually aired. anyways, I hope you all enjoy this blast to the past! <3

It was a sound that haunted Glenn's dreams. Not the moans, although Lord knew that those were bad as well. No, it was the _scraping_ , the slow dragging of leaden, half-dead limbs across concrete. It was akin to the modern day version of nails on a chalkboard, the sound of exposed bones scratching against the sides of cars and buildings. It was this sound that would jolt Glenn awake, heart galloping, a scream dying on his lips as he realized that he was still in his tent, that he wasn't surrounded by geeks. The only way he survived it, the only way that he hadn't just snapped and shot himself was because, when it was in his dreams, Glenn could escape from the scraping. He could wake up and if he focused hard enough before he shut his eyes again, he could dream of days gone by, where his only priorities had been delivering pizza and playing video games and trying not to disappoint his parents.

But this; this wasn't a dream. This was all too real.

One minute, everything had been... well, sane. They had been picking their way through the labyrinth of cars blocking the highway, fingers hovering over triggers, eyes peeled for stray geeks. He had been with Daryl, stepping over debris and bodies alike with nonchalance, both of them looking ahead for signs of trouble. To be honest, Glenn had been more concerned with how hot it was; even for Georgia, the day was a scorcher, leaving sweat to drip into his eyes. While he was wiping it away, he had smacked into Daryl, who had turned around with a word (probably a cuss or a slur) on his lips.

Then he'd froze, eyes wide and when Glenn turned around, Rick was running towards them, his already pale face clammy and devoid of all color.

"Quick, under the cars!"

That was when Glenn heard the sound. It echoed up the highway, blocking out even the sound of his terrified breathing. He couldn't see the walkers yet but they were coming; dozens, maybe even hundreds of them, judging from the amplified scraping penetrating his ears. He couldn't move; every single last of his nightmares was coming to life, bearing down upon him and he was absolutely paralyzed.

He never thought that he'd say it but thank God for Daryl. The man practically tackled him, shoving him under the nearest car before crawling under himself, cursing once under his breath before falling silent. For a few seconds, the horrible sound seemed to fall away and all Glenn could hear was Daryl's breathing, seemingly as loud as a freight train in his ears.

Then the scraping came back as a roar, surrounding Glenn on all sides, piercing his brain. He wanted so badly to just curl up into the fetal position, to slam his hands over his ears and pretend that he was a child again. He had never felt fear as intense, even when him and Rick had been wandering the streets of Atlanta covered in guts. At least then, they'd had an escape plan but if one of them made a noise, if one of the kids whimpered a little too loudly, they were all going to die.

He was terrified. His body was trembling so hard that he was almost certain he was going to jitter right out of his skin. Beside him, Daryl seemed just as calm as ever, breathing slowly, eyes open and flicking back and forth. Up to this point, Glenn had been staring straight ahead but now he made the mistake of turning his head slowly to the right. Lori and Carol were two cars away but in between, all he could see was legs and feet, all gray and maggot ridden, somehow still managing to walk. Pairing the action with the noise somehow made it even worse; as he heard flesh scraping against concrete, he could see someone's bare heel dragging along the ground, leaving skin behind.

That did it. Against his will, a scream bubbled up Glenn's throat but even while he was thinking that they were all dead and it was going to be his fault, a hand slammed over his mouth, effectively cutting off any sound. Glenn glanced sideways and Daryl merely glared at him in response before slowly closing and reopening his eyes. Glenn got the hint and shut his eyes, letting his forehead rest on the hard concrete. Daryl's arm was heavy around his neck but it was almost a comforting weight; it was odd but, even though he could still hear the sound inches from his ear, as long as his eyes were closed and that weight was on him, he felt safe. For the first time since everything had gone to hell, he actually felt completely and utterly _safe_.

He didn't know how long he laid there, breathing through his nose, unable to smell anything but sweat and dirt and long-dried tar. The flow of walkers was starting to slow to a trickle and eventually, they completely stopped. Even then, although Glenn flicked his eyes back open, he didn't move and neither did Daryl. If anything, Daryl's arm seemed to tighten slightly, pulling Glenn closer to him. It was only when Glenn realized that he couldn't really breathe anymore that he pulled away, sucking in a deep breath through his trembling lips.

"Fuck kid, you coulda-"

"Thanks Daryl," Glenn said quietly, cutting the other man off midway. For a moment, Daryl's face stayed twisted with irritation before slowly morphing into a weird combination of bewilderment and relief.

"Welcome, I guess." Glenn couldn't help but wonder why the words sounded so strange, yet so good coming from Daryl's mouth and he realized after a moment that he was staring at the guy. As much as he wanted to look away, he couldn't.

Sophia's scream split the tension like a railroad spike and Glenn had no more time to think about the incident until that night, when he was reclining in the front seat of the RV, waiting to fall asleep. He could just barely see Daryl standing outside by the guard rail, taking first watch even though he had just barely gotten back from searching for Sophia with Rick. In the dark, Glenn thought that he could see Daryl's head swivel towards his general direction, but he couldn't be certain if it was reality or wishful thinking. To be honest, it didn't really matter to him.

He had no doubt that the dreams were going to come that night; it was almost guaranteed after the events of the day. But, as he took one last long look at Daryl's silhouette before shutting his eyes, he had a feeling that he wouldn't have to imagine the time before to get himself back to a safe place where sleep was within his grasp.

***

Glenn was running.

The blacktop was unforgiving beneath his feet, sending bolts of pain up his body with every smack of his thin soled sneakers. He could feel his knees getting weaker, closer to buckling with each additional step he took, but as much as he wanted to sit down and catch his breath, that wasn't a viable option. Sweat trickled down his forehead, stinging like hell as it dripped into his eyes but he couldn't even summon the energy to wipe his face.

They were getting closer. He didn't dare look backwards but he could hear them, hear the scraping of their feet across the asphalt. There must have been dozens, maybe even hundreds of them, all of them moaning for his blood and flesh. With the combined sounds ringing in his ears, he forced himself to run faster, jumping over the debris that was scattered across the road.

He didn't know where his gun was, or his baseball bat. This struck him as odd, because he never went anywhere without one of them, but he didn't have time to ponder the details of the situation. The geeks were getting closer, no matter how fast he ran and he could tell that his knees and lungs wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. He had to make a decision and quick, before he became the latest meal for the damn walkers.

Up ahead, he saw his opportunity. There was a small building just off the side of the road, something that might have been a rest stop at some point in time. He thought that, if he booked it just a bit more, he'd be able to slide inside before they noticed what direction he'd gone in. There was also the chance that they were just going to swarm after him and devour him but he figured that it was his best shot. Veering to the left, he put his remaining energy into his feet, propelling himself forward into the small building and shutting the door as quietly as he could manage. There was only one small dingy window, inset into the door, and he pressed himself beside it, glancing outside without actually being in view.

For a moment, the world almost looked normal; he could even see a bird across the street, hopping across the blacktop like it didn't have a care in the world. The trees swayed gently in the breeze that he could just barely feel coming underneath the door.

Then the bird was torn into pieces and the walkers came. Rows upon rows of them filed by, each one completely different from the last. He saw business men, a few construction workers, even some fucking children. They seemed to have not seen where he'd gone but, even with the door between them, he could still hear that noise, hear the scraping as hundreds of pairs of feet dragged along the road. Even after five minutes, when the lines of geeks finally thinned out, he could still hear that damn noise; as a matter of fact, if anything, it seemed to be getting even louder.

It was when he felt breath ghost along his ear that he realized that his hiding place hadn't worked anyways.

He woke up screaming. Or, at least, he should have been screaming; he could feel his vocal cords vibrating but no sound seemed to be coming out of his mouth. It was only after a second that he realized his eyes were still closed and when he opened them, all the dots were connected.

Daryl was kneeling in front of him, glaring at him, hand slapped across Glenn's mouth. For a brief moment, Glenn felt his heart skip in what was actually a fairly a pleasant way. Nonetheless, he forced himself to think of it as an after-effect of his dream; it was still too weird to think of the alternative reason, especially with Daryl standing right in front of him.

"That poor woman just got herself to sleep," he whispered, eyes still locked with Glenn's, "and I'll be damned if you're gonna wake her up again cause you had a fuckin' nightmare." He finally yanked his hand away and slid into the driver's seat of the RV, stretching his legs out and laying his hands on his lap. His crossbow lay on the dashboard, ready to be grabbed at a moment's notice. If Glenn didn't know better, he would have thought that Daryl was in love with it.

Now that was a thought that he _really_ didn't want to think about.

"What would y'all do without me?" Daryl muttered, staring out the windshield and shaking his head.

"Be a lot more scared." Glenn really hadn't been meaning to say that thought out loud and the instant he realized that it had passed his lips, he could feel himself blushing. Daryl turned his gaze back to him and, for probably the first time that Glenn had ever witnessed, he was smiling. Not smirking or leering, actually _smiling_.

"That so?" Glenn supposed that there was no point in denying what Daryl had obviously heard so he merely nodded, pointedly looking out the windshield as well. When Daryl started chuckling, he felt his cheeks grow even more uncomfortably warm.

"C'mere kid." For a second, Glenn thought that his imagination had found its way into reality. However, when he glanced sideways, Daryl was looking at him expectantly. Even if Glenn had had something to say, he seemed to have lost complete and utter comprehension of the English language. He slid off of the passenger seat and into the small area between it and the driver's side. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, especially since he was trying not to lean against Daryl's leg. Apparently however, that was what the other man wanted; with another roll of his eyes, he laid one hand on Glenn's shoulder and pulled him closer, so that Glenn's head was leaning against the outside of his knee.

"Comfy?" Mouth dry and words still not available to him, Glenn merely nodded, liking the pleasant rasp of his ear against Daryl's jeans. He knew that in the morning, his back was probably going to kill him but he also knew that he wouldn't regret it. He let his eyes drift close again, smiling when one of Daryl's hands came to rest on top of his head.

"Now, y'know this is only so I can shut you up when you scream again, right?" Glenn knew a lie when he heard one but he didn't dare question it. To be fair, even if it was the truth (and that was doubtful), he didn't care why Daryl was doing what he was doing; the fact that he was doing it was enough for Glenn.

"Thanks Daryl," he finally murmured, letting his left arm casually loop around Daryl's leg. He thought that he might have been imagining things again but he could sworn that Daryl had made a content sigh when he'd done that.

"Anytime, kid."

That night, Glenn slept better than he had even before the apocalypse had started.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
